


Unbelievable, Undefeatable

by Whreflections



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, M/M, Porn, post concert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-11
Updated: 2012-09-11
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:43:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whreflections/pseuds/Whreflections
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things never change. If you're lucky, really lucky, that constant just might be a person you couldn't ever live without. Set during the Danger Days tour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unbelievable, Undefeatable

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the Danger Days tour, after Gee cut his hair short but before Frank shaved his(only in this band can we measure time periods by hair, lmao). This is a frerard, absolutely, and they are the only couple actually pictured but there are references to: Waycest, Gerard/Lindsey, Frank/Jamia, and Ray/Christa here, none of which are mentioned in a negative or past tense light so…just fair warning, though they ARE only mentioned. It’s just Frank and Gee here, ^^

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After 10 years, some things Frank knows better than the back of his hand. They’ve just come off stage and they’re all riding the high, but his right now, there’s more to it than that. Gerard was amazing tonight, wild with excitement and pure adrenaline, and he’d been driving Frank crazy all night. The second week of the tour, so many times it was like this. The first week they were ironing out kinks, settling in, remembering and relearning and adjusting and finding the  _feel_  these shows were gonna have. It was amazing in its own way, but the  _second_  week, that was when it really started to come together. They adjusted to the schedule again, to crazy nights and crashing on the bus with the shades and curtains drawn tight and everything about it all was magic.   
  
He’d felt the near manic energy to it just before they’d stepped on stage, in the looks they exchanged just before the lights went down before their entrance. It thrummed somewhere in the space between them, nearly humming in the air before they’d ever played a note. Together, they were invincible. Together, it was more than just music. And that was saying a lot, because  _nothing_  was ever ‘just’ music.   
  
Just before he stepped up to take his place at the mike Gerard had stopped to drag one hand through Frank’s hair, and the low burn from the touch had settled in under his skin, smoldering through the show and giving just a little more to the way he played, to the way he felt with his neck arched back, fingers flying through House of Wolves with hardly a thought, everything in him focused on Gerard’s voice so close to his ear as Frank leaned back into him, head on his shoulder.   
  
 _Well I said, hey, hey, hallelujah…_  
  
It had been glorious and perfect and not enough, and when Gerard had stepped up to him to rub his chest as they finished off the encore with Vampire Money he’d actually shuddered, his jaw going slack as he leaned into the touch, sure he was either about to melt or burst into ash.   
  
Gerard always did that to him, though. Every time.   
  
So when they hit backstage he’s still jazzed from everything they did tonight, of course he is, but he’s also half hard and wanting Gerard’s hands on his skin so much he aches. There’s a lot of reasons they work, though, and one of them is that Gerard, he knows that about Frank too. He always knows, and more than that,  _he_  wants just as sharply or maybe even more, and when their eyes meet after the four of them tumble through the door into the dressing room, he knows there’s minutes before they’re taking this somewhere else. Seconds, maybe.   
  
Gerard slings off the towel around his neck, dropping it to the floor damp, though it doesn’t seem to have done much good. He’s dripping with sweat but he always is; they all are. Side effect of giving 200%, and it’s no wonder they kind of hated playing summer festivals in the beginning. There’s water on the makeup counters, and even though there’s plenty for everyone they open one and pass it around, Gerard first before he hands it off to Ray.   
  
“Frankie.” He looks up at the touch, Gerard’s fingers still cool when they touch his wrist from the condensation on the bottle. In his other hand he’s got his Zippo and a pack of smokes, and he shakes them a little, the question open ended even though  _that_  isn’t really the question at all. They’ll have a light together, sure.  _After_. Always after.   
  
He pats the other guys on the back on his way following Gee out; asks them to come because he knows they’ll say no. They  _know_. Of course they know. The ruse, it’s for the crew, never for them. Gerard slips into a room down the hall, and when Frank catches the door and slips in behind him he sees it’s another dressing room, dark and unneeded tonight. When the door shuts there’s no light at all other than the brilliant strip from the crack at the bottom, and when he feels Gerard reach for the light switch at first he catches his hand. If someone from the venue sees the light on, they’re gonna get caught, and while that wouldn’t be a problem in itself, it could be one if the wrong person sees them, someone who’s gonna go running to the nearest tabloid rag they can find. Besides, it’ll be alright. They’re so far past needing their eyes to find their way. Everything they need comes as easy as breathing, sense memory etched all the way down to their bones.   
  
Still, Gerard just uses the hand to pull him in closer, though, turning Frank as he does and hauling his back flush up against Gerard’s chest. He holds him tight, fumbles for the wall again with his other hand, his lips suddenly feather light and just a little wet against Frank’s ear.   
  
“You know I wanna see you.”   
  
And yeah, ok, he does. He always wants that too, really, but sometimes, just sometimes, he tries to be responsible. Usually, it fails, and he thinks most days that responsibility is overrated anyway, but he’s not sure yet if he’ll ever tell his girls that. He probably will, but there’s just so much in him that wants them to be better, and even now he’s not quite sure that it’s all the way a blessing that he’ll probably never grow up.   
  
Most of the time, he thinks Jamia knows that they still do this. She knew before, at least. She never cared then and he doesn’t think she cares now, because while she may not completely understand, he thinks she sort of gets what it is and what it isn’t. He can’t explain it, not really, but it’s something about Gerard and something about the way they are together and it’s just a piece of a whole. Lindsey, Frank  _knows_  she knows, about him  _and_  about Mikey, but for her, he thinks, it’s even easier to understand. It’s like a quilt with a myriad of patches, bright and brilliant and all angles that should look awkward but aren’t because they  _fit_. He’s never been conventional and love is never wrong, and those are two of the very few absolutes he believes in.   
  
Gerard finds the light switch then, and he’s knocked out of his thoughts as humming fluorescent lights flick on and Gerard’s right hand spreads flat against his stomach, burning hot even over the thin fabric of his t-shirt.   
  
“That’s better.” He can hear the smile in Gerard’s voice before those lips are on his neck and he can feel a soft moan vibrating against his skin. No. There’s nothing ‘wrong’ about this. There never could be. He reaches back to get one hand in Gerard’s hair, still disoriented for a moment with its recent cut before his fingers find purchase, holding on tight as he turns his own head just enough for their lips to meet. It’s like the stage kisses and at the same time it isn’t, because while there’s heat and frenzy there, there’s also always something else going on. Here, he’s got 100% of Gerard’s focus, and there’s nothing else like it in all the world.   
  
The hand on his belly is rubbing slow circles, and while he usually appreciates the buildup, after watching those hands all night close around things that weren’t him followed by that brief moment of touch on stage, he’s not a fan of anticipation at the moment. He stops the kisses long enough to catch his breath a little, something hitching his chest as he buries his face into Gerard’s neck.   
  
“ _Gee_.” It’s a plea the way he says it, his hips now moving in short, uncontrollable jerks against Gerard’s hand, and Gerard’s first response is to hold him tighter. They’re both still sweaty as hell and he can feel his back with his own shirt already stuck fast to him now sticking to Gerard’s chest but he absolutely could not care less about anything right now, can’t care about anything at all other than the way Gerard’s hand feels on him as he strokes his thumb over cotton one last time before reaching down for Frank’s belt.   
  
“I was thinkin’ about doin’ this to you.” His voice is low, silken soft still even though it’s a little spent from the show. “That time while you were playin’, back in Jersey.”   
  
He remembers, both because it hasn’t been that long but even more because he couldn’t forget. They’d been back in town to see Ray and Christa when they’d taken Bauer home for his last days, and before heading back to LA they’d stopped off at his parent’s house for a few days. Down in the basement, in his old room, he’d sat on the edge of the bed and played an old acoustic he’d dug out of the closet. At first he’d been showing Gee something new, but before he knew it Gerard was behind him, arms snaking around his chest, lower, as he told him “No, keep playing.”.   
  
He wasn’t sure how he’d managed, but he’d made it right up until the end. Gerard’s smile had been brilliant as they lay there together afterward, and when he’d pulled Frank close to kiss his temple he’d mumbled that next time, he’d record it, even if it was just on his cell. Next time. It hadn’t happened yet, but he didn’t doubt someday it would.   
  
He wants to answer, wants to say that he wouldn’t be entirely surprised if Gerard grabbed his buckle and pretended to do it on stage sometime, maybe even this tour, but he’s breathless, so he just turns his head again, seeking Gerard’s kiss. Gerard kisses with his whole body, hands flexing, shoulders hunching in just a little closer to bring every inch of them together. Gerard’s tongue is coaxing, and when Frank sucks on it lightly Gee moans like he hasn’t done it to him a thousand times before, like he doesn’t care if anyone hears.   
  
Gerard flips the buckle on his belt open, makes short work of the button and zipper on his jeans after it. He doesn’t reach in to wrap his fingers around Frank’s cock, not at first. His hand slides over, palm pressed to bare skin, just far enough over to rub his thumb over the swallow on Frank’s left hip, the one that’s Frank’s. Gerard loves them, he knows, even if he’s said more than once that it shouldn’t be his with the halo. Of course, every time he says that, Frank shakes his head. He’s never met anyone that deserved a halo more than this man, in no small part because he thinks he deserves it the least.   
  
Everything he does means something, and the touch is both a caress and a promise. He remembers, where they started and where they’ve been, and no matter what their lives have become now this is a constant. Gerard gives in then,  _finally_ taking Frank in his hand and  _God_  but it was worth the wait. He groans hungrily, maybe a little too loud, but he doesn’t really care because he can feel Gerard’s hips jerk against him at the sound.   
  
“ _Fuck_ , Frank…” Gerard’s head dips, and the feel of his tongue tracing the tattoo at the back of his neck is electrifying, white hot shocks that make him whimper. He can feel the letters as they spell out on Gee’s tongue, the rallying cry now so dear to thousands outside of the four of them. He reaches back, clutching at Gerard’s shirt and the back pocket of his jeans but at this point he literally can’t get him any closer, not without taking everything off. He settles for walking his fingers up until his hand presses against Gerard’s neck. It’s actual bare skin under his fingertips and he can feel Gerard breathe, heavy and uneven, matching the tempo of his hand on Frank as he speeds up.   
  
The hand Gerard had been using to hold onto his hip slides up, tugs down the collar of Frank’s shirt so he catch a little glimpse of his chest. He could take the shirt off, make it easier, but there’ll be time enough for that later. Sometime. Right now, Gerard takes in the glance that he gets, and his teeth mark Frank’s neck as he bites down gently, just below the scorpion. Frank feels like he’s been close to this all night, like from that first fucking touch Gee’s been stringing him out on a wire and he’s already rocking into Gerard’s grip hard, and Gerard, he moves with him, matching his rhythm. Frank can feel him through those skin tight pants he wears, hard and snug up against his ass as they grind together. Even in the asymmetrical picture they’d make like this, back to front with Frank’s pants hanging open, there is perfect fluidity. The warm hand on his cock squeezes lightly, thumb putting just the right amount of pressure near the head that countless practice has taught him Frank loves, and Frank’s cock jerks in his hand, leaking enough to trickle down over his fingers.   
  
There’s more urgency to it then, more speed but no less rhythm, and Gerard’s making those little breathy moans that he knows good and damn well can drive just about anyone crazy if he duplicates them on stage. They definitely succeed at the driving everyone crazy thing, though he’d still put his money down that he and Mikey would hit the top of that list, every time. Now, though, it’s better, because it’s just for him. There’s nothing else, not a thing but the two of them and Gerard’s touch and the heady knowledge that even just jerking him off and rubbing against him like he is now Gerard could get off on this, easy, because Gerard never does anything halfway.   
  
Frank whispers his name, just because he needs to, and Gerard kisses it off his lips, sudden and with a kind of deep possession that makes him feel grounded even while everything in him flies apart, body jerking as he comes in Gerard’s arms. Gerard doesn’t miss a beat, swipes his hand on Frank’s jeans before turning him, their lips only apart long enough to feel the rush of air in the movement before they’re kissing again, properly this time, face to face with Gerard’s hands cradling his cheeks.   
  
It’s heavenly, and his knees are fucking weak, and from the way he’s leaning back on the wall he knows Gerard’s are too. Gee, he can do this forever,  _they_  can do this forever, but in a place like this that just isn’t very smart. He knows it, but it’s a little while before he cares because Gerard’s hands have slid down to grip his ass, squeezing every time their tongues tangle together and holy  _fuck_  but he wishes he was ready to go again already.   
  
From down the hall Ray laughs, loud and warm and they both laugh a little under their breath, smiling against each other’s lips. He and Mikey are probably reliving the show, cooling down and talking it over and they’re going to have to join them, but right this second isn’t the time.   
  
Frank slows their kisses gradually, Gerard’s lower lip sliding oh so slowly from a slight tug with his teeth on the last one, He whispers against his lips, one hand smoothing ragged red hair from where he’d mussed it earlier. “You were fucking amazing tonight, Gee.” He’s amazing every night, but sometimes, some nights are something extra special. Tonight, he _shined_.   
  
He smiles, eyes sparkling. “We killed it tonight. Couldn’t believe you on Planetary, I thought you were goin’ over the edge again there for a minute.” It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again, but it wasn’t himself he’d wanted to point out.   
  
He tilts his head for a quick kiss, pulls back when Gerard tries to deepen it. “Should get back to the guys.” He’s being an insufferable tease with Gerard’s cock pressing insistently against his thigh, and he knows it, but he knows Gerard. He knows he’ll pretend to take the bait, because he knows Frank well enough to  _know_  it’s just bait. They’re like each other’s favorite books, pages reread and worn and marked until everything is known, mapped and remembered and all the more cherished.   
  
Gerard just raises his eyebrows, smirks at him with a look he’s pretty sure might someday actually kill him. “Move your ass then.”   
  
“I dunno, should probably finish something first.”   
  
“Mmm.” He arches, a little catlike, and he’s at least got the outward look of patience until Frank cups the bulge at the front of his jeans. He sheds it then, cheeks flushing as he pushes up into Frank’s hand. He’d been close, so fucking close before and if Frank could’ve held out just a little longer they could have come together, but as good as that is, he can’t help but selfishly like it this way a little better. Because Gerard’s right, even if he  _could_  do this blindfolded, he wants to see him.   
  
One more full handed squeeze and he drops to his knees, nuzzling at the front of his black jeans. Gerard’s fingers tangle in his hair, tight, and it’s a mark that the fatigue is starting to settle into his arms that he doesn’t squeeze just a little harder. The zipper comes down easy and the typical lack of underwear is always perfect at moments like this when he can’t get his mouth around him fast enough. After being so close to the edge before it’s both amazing and too much, Frank can feel it, and he slacks his jaw the best he can and lets Gerard thrust into his mouth. His movements are still careful, still measured but all the same they’re just barely that side of uncontrolled, shallow enough, maybe, but still jerky and eager. He flattens his tongue against the underside and strokes once, slow and steady, and Gee comes like the motion drew it out of him.   
  
Gerard is beautiful when he comes, and Frank’s eyes flicker up to watch him. It’s something he hopes fervently that he’ll never forget, the way his hands clutch desperately at Frank just before they go nearly limp with pleasure, the way everything he’s feeling is laid bare in his eyes, if he keeps them open. Fuck, the  _sounds_  he makes should qualify as fucking porn all on their own. Best of all there’s the way Gee looks at him after, so full of love and trust and fucked out bliss even if all they’ve done is get each other off quick in a fucking airplane bathroom. Or here, just inside the door of a dingy room that looks like it hasn’t been used in quite awhile. All of it, it’s just  _Gerard_ , really. Heart and soul, love and light and sound all combined into something that Frank has somehow gotten lucky enough to not only see but be the cause of more times than he can count, and it’s fucking humbling. There’s a thousand different kinds of love, and he wouldn’t trade any of the ones he’s got in his own life, but deep down he knows that no one,  _no one_  is ever gonna love him the way Gerard Way does, because no one else can.   
  
His fingers thread softer through Frank’s hair now, caressing, and when he turns his head to kiss Gerard’s palm he feels more than hears the soft “Fuck, c’mere.” He reaches to pull Frank up but Frank beats him to it, surging up quick and pushing him back into the wall so hard in his haste to get his arms around him that they bounce back off it a little. Gerard’s already kissing him though, and he can’t bring himself to care. He can feel Gerard’s heartbeat where their chests are pressed tight together, the rapid flutter of it even as it starts to slow. His own beats in counterpoint, and his nails dig in to Gerard’s skin a little, holding on tight as they start to equalize.   
  
“ _Fuck_.” Gerard’s eyes shut as his head tips back against the wall, and Frank laughs, kisses his jaw lightly. Gee’s been quiet, for him, and between that and the slight rough scratch he can hear on his voice, Frank knows he’s beat, even more so now that both the after effects of the show and sex are dwindling from his veins. It’s still the first part of that second week, still doing a little settling in, and even being the night owl that he is, Gerard could probably crash right now, all four of them in there on that slightly run down sofa in their dressing room that he’s not even sure would hold their combined weight. He could, but he won’t. They’ll have a smoke, he’ll have his tea, and he’ll call Lindsey, say goodnight to his daughter. He’ll back off, let him and Ray and Mikey lead the conversation for awhile, and when the bus leaves around three he’ll be ready to meet the fans like he’s not even tired, because it’s what he wants. No matter what he gives them, to Gerard, it’s never enough if he thinks he has more to offer.   
  
Gerard ruffles his hair, lips brushing against his cheek as he shuffles around in his pocket for the lighter and cigarettes. Frank takes the chance to buckle up his pants, lets Gee take the first drag before he pulls it from his fingers, stealing a smoky kiss before getting his own hit.   
  
Gee still has one arm slung around his waist, and when he wants Frank’s attention he tugs on a belt loop lightly, waits until their eyes meet.   
  
“What is it, Frankie?”   
  
He shrugs, hides his lack of an answer with a smile and another drag before Gee practically snags it right from his lips. There’s been a lot on his mind lately, from how long 10 years seems when you’re looking back on it to how glad he is they’ve never lost this, that they ever even came together in the first place.   
  
He slides his arm around Gerard’s neck, foreheads resting together. Gerard doesn’t look away.   
  
“Love you, Gee.” Really, that’s all that needs to be said. He knows the ‘I love you too’ that follows, down to the heart he can feel behind the words, and for a second he shuts his eyes and lets them soak in. His whole life, he’s been the kind of person that thrived on a good bit of chaos, but now, he’s not ashamed to admit that when he’s with Gerard, he’s never felt more at peace.   
  
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End file.
